Matt's Dilemma
by Shellecah
Summary: When the sheriff of Hays City quits his post, Matt faces conducting a hanging himself as he rides to the town with a condemned man bent on escape.
1. Chapter 1

When Matt saw Walt Keegan on Front Street and recollected his sharp features from a _Wanted _poster, the marshal strolled by him, pivoted and snaked his gun from the holster, locked him up and took him to court. Judge Vanderlin listened patiently as he confessed to killing six murderers who evaded the noose for lack of witnesses.

"I never killed an innocent man, Your Honor," said Keegan, "and I never shot a man in the back or a sleeping man. I shot them in the chest and they died directly. I swear I went straight, Judge. I haven't shot a man in five years." Keegan said he gave the money paid him to kill to charities, and worked as a barkeep.

The judge wryly regarded him, and the prisoner sighed and bowed his head as though to receive penance. "Mr. Keegan, I believe you've been truthful with the court. The Almighty's grace is sufficient, and I sincerely hope that will give you a measure of peace, though your victims must have felt fear when they looked at the muzzle of your gun." Keegan hunched his shoulders so his chin touched the black tie resting on his chest.

"Yes, the men you killed were _suspected _of murder," said Judge Vanderlin, "and they served prison time for robbery and beatings. Three of them beat and violated women. The court is aware that these were men of malicious character. _However. _You took the law into your own hands when you killed them. Knowing your victims were not proven guilty, you acted as lawman, jury, judge and executioner. Therefore, Mr. Keegan, regrettably, this court must sentence you to hang by the neck until dead."

Matt did not consider appealing the sentence on Keegan's behalf until a wire came from Hays stating that the sheriff quit and rode out of town after killing two bank robbers, leaving Matt to officiate close to the gallows instead of standing as far away as he could within the enclosure with his back turned. He requested reduction to prison, and received a reply that the governor would review Keegan's case, and the death sentence stood unless a stay was granted in thirty days.

When a month passed and no letter arrived from the governor's office, the marshal and Keegan set out on horseback on a brisk morning in October for the three-day trip to Hays. The councilman who answered Matt's telegram about the sheriff's position said it remained vacant as no one wanted the job.

Keegan told Matt he'd try to escape, so Chester rode with them. He would guard Keegan while Matt slept, and Matt would stand guard while Chester slept. One would watch the prisoner when the other filled the canteens, gathered firewood or tended the horses. The marshal tied Keegan's wrists to his saddle pommel, strung a line to Matt's horse and knotted the rope around Matt's pommel. Chester would ride alongside Keegan, keeping an eye on his hands in case he worked the knots.

Matt deputized a man to run the Dodge office in his absence instead of leaving Chester in town and taking the deputy to Hays to help guard Keegan. With the trail herds in Dodge, two train robbers and a ruffian drover in jail, Matt figured Chester would get in trouble trying to enforce order.

Matt, Chester and Keegan were quiet the first hour of the journey. They saw no one on the prairie, and heard only the horses' hooves clopping the brown grass.

Chester dozed off, slumping in the saddle, his head bobbing. The prisoner, his coppery eyes in his chiseled brown face piercing bright with a hint of the feral and a rooted fear in their depths, regarded Chester a moment, and looked at the back of Matt's broad shoulders as the marshal rode ahead. Keegan's eyes fastened on the ropes binding his wrists, and his lean fingers tugged the knots.

Matt had tied the knots tightly, and some thirty minutes passed before Keegan freed himself, glancing every minute or so at the slumbering Chester. Keegan dropped the rope to the ground, turned his horse's head, kicked in his heels and slapped the reins on its neck. The horse galloped away from Dodge and Hays.

Matt gave chase on Buck, and Chester woke. "Oh my goodness," he gasped. He fumbled with the reins, pushed his hat down snugly, and rode after Keegan and the marshal.

Keegan's horse fast outdistanced Matt's, and Chester's horse overtook Buck, gaining on Keegan. Chester's horse and Keegan's were about matched for swiftness, but Chester though two inches taller was a few pounds lighter than Keegan, who had a frame midway between lean and sturdy.

The slight weight difference gave Chester's horse the edge. It caught up to Keegan's, and Chester reached for the bridle. Keegan smacked his hand away and punched his jaw. He reeled in the saddle, gripping the pommel, and Keegan's horse galloped ahead.

Chester pulled his shotgun, aimed at a point feet from Keegan's head and pulled the trigger. Keegan's horse reared, whinnying, as Chester ejected the shell, leveled the shotgun at the other side of Keegan's head and fired again. Keegan's horse threw him, galloped some yards away and stopped, stamping and tossing its head.

Matt rode up, and he and Chester dismounted. Keegan scrambled to his feet and broke into a staggering run, and Matt reached out a long arm and collared him. "Ah'm no end sorry, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I dropped ta sleep 'fore I knew it an' he freed hisself."

"We'll ride either side of him," said Matt. Chester took a coiled rope out of his saddlebag, and he and Matt wound it tightly round the prisoner from shoulders to elbows, pinioning his arms to his sides. Chester pulled Keegan's wrists behind his back and crossed them, and Matt encased them with rope, tying Keegan's hands together with several knots.

Chester led Keegan's horse to him while Matt picked up the prisoner's hat and set it on his head over waving dark hair. Keegan put his boot in the stirrup, and Matt and Chester together hoisted him into the saddle. Matt tied a short line from Keegan's saddle pommel to his, and rode beside the prisoner with Chester at Keegan's other side.

When the clouded sun reached a high point in the pale-blue sky, they led the horses to a creek to drink, then Chester filled the feedbags with oats and strapped them on the horses. Matt dismounted and took jerky and pone wrapped in cloth from his saddlebag, and Chester filled their canteens from the creek.

"Can I get down?" said Keegan.

"You need to?" said Matt.

"No. I want to get down to eat."

"You'll eat in the saddle," said Matt.

"I can't trussed up."

"Sorry, Keegan. It'd take too long tyin' you back up. There'd be no need to truss you if you hadn't tried to escape."

"I warned you I would, Marshal. And I will again."

"Then I might haveta rope you down to your boots and drape you over your horse the rest of the trip," said Matt.

"I'd die from that," said Keegan. "They do things like that to men in prison," he said, when Matt didn't answer. "To punish them."

"I'm not punishing you," said Matt. "If you keep trying to escape, I'll have no choice."

"Then I don't get to eat?" said Keegan. "I can't tied up."

"I'll feed 'im, Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

Keegan heaved a sigh, then stiffened, squared his shoulders and gazed out over the prairie, a distant grieved look in his eyes. He repeatedly clenched his fists and splayed his fingers behind his back.

"We'll untie you when we have supper and bed down for the night," Matt said. Keegan nodded. Chester stood by Keegan's horse and fed the prisoner jerky and pone. He was a slow careful eater, and Chester patiently went at his pace. Chester gave him a drink from the canteen, then unstrapped the horses' feedbags. Matt and Chester mounted up, and Chester ate his lunch as they rode.

Keegan lowered his head so his chin touched his chest, though he wasn't dozing, and Matt recollected the prisoner bowing his head before Judge Vanderlin. Matt and Chester looked at each other over Keegan's head, then looked at the prisoner. Keegan shifted his eyes from side to side over his sharp high-bridged nose, saw them studying him, straightened up and met Matt's direct, watchful blue gaze. "Mind if I call you Matt?" said Keegan.

"Sure," the marshal said impassively.

"Can you call me Walt?"

"Alright."

Keegan turned his head to look into Chester's round brown eyes watching him intently. Locked weeks in the Dodge jail, Keegan had grown familiar with that keen expression, filled with acute yet elusive emotion. When he first turned the key in the jail cell lock, trapping Keegan inside, Chester looked at the prisoner that way, and he'd thought Chester smart and alert as a hawk, a man to be reckoned with despite the lame leg. Keegan quickly realized that though Chester had a knack for some things, he could be rather dim-witted in other ways and often showed a sleepy constitution, and the penetrating look Keegan saw at times in his eyes was an excess of varied feelings that Chester himself likely did not understand.

"Why don't you call Matt by his first name," said Keegan, "seeing as you're friends."

"He's a U.S. marshal and I work for him," Chester explained.

"That usually doesn't matter when two fellas are friends," said Keegan. "Close as you and Matt are, particular."

Not knowing how to answer that, Chester said nothing. He looked away from Keegan, to where the whitewashed sky with its cold sunlight met the brown prairie. Chester felt a little swelling thrill that rose in his chest now and then at harvest time, and began singing _Sweet Betsy from Pike_. He sang it twice, then grew quiet, gazing pensively at the horizon.

The men rode in silence until twilight shadowed the plains, and Matt said, "We'll camp by the hickory tree yonder." The tree was a big shagbark, with nuts strewn around the trunk and yellowed leaves drifting down and carpeting its base. "Walt, if you try to run again, I'm gonna tie ya to the tree all night," said Matt. Keegan made no reply, cutting his eyes away from Matt's probing gaze.

Matt and Chester dismounted and helped Keegan climb down from his horse. "I'll tend 'im, Mr. Dillon, iffen you wanna git the fire goin' an' all," said Chester.

"Alright," said Matt.

"Is there coffee?" Keegan asked.

"Yeah," said Chester. He spread Keegan's bedroll out under the hickory tree. "Set down," Chester ordered, and helped Keegan sit. Chester sat behind him, and Keegan felt slim fingers against his hands, untying the ropes.

"Your hands are cold," said Keegan.

"So's yers," said Chester. "We'll warm when the fire's lit." He unwound the rope from the prisoner's arms and torso, and Keegan's arms fell to his sides. "My arms are dead," he said. "They're like sausages sewn on my pits."

Matt paused in piling sticks for the fire to look at Keegan. "We'll tie the rope looser tomorrow with your arms in front," said the marshal.

Chester rubbed Keegan's arms and wrists and hands. "The rope chafed a groove in 'is wrists," Chester said. "They look some raw."

"Give him a piece of fatback, Chester. Not too much; we might use it for fryin'," said Matt. Chester unwrapped the hunk of fatback, cut off a bit and handed it to Keegan, who rubbed it into the sore red marks on his wrists.

"Sit with your back against the trunk and don't move," Matt said to Keegan.

"Finish settin' up camp, will you, Chester? I'll guard Walt here." Matt spread out his bedroll near Keegan's and sat down.

"May as well crack some hickory nuts while Chester's fixing supper," said Keegan, looking around him on the ground.

He picked up a rock and Matt took it from him. "I'll crack 'em," said Matt.

"I'm not fast enough to bust your head, Matt," Keegan objected.

"Maybe not, but you could throw this rock at me and run before I had a chance to stop you," said Matt. He cracked shells and handed the nuts to Keegan, who brushed off the dirt and ate them.

"You don't want any, Matt?" he said.

"Nope."

Chester boiled stew meat with potatoes and wild onions and heated pone. They ate it with coffee and doused the fire. "I'll guard Walt first part of the night, Chester," said Matt. "Then I'll wake you to watch 'im 'til sunup."

"Mr. Dillon, I jest dunno as I kin cook 'n clean up camp an' tend the horses on half-nights of sleep," Chester griped.

"I'll help with that," Matt said.

Keegan lay down, pulled his blanket up to his nose and closed his eyes. Chester also lay down and covered up, falling asleep at once. Matt sat up, resting against a big rock and peering at Keegan's face in the darkness. The prisoner's features were not relaxed and his lids fluttered, and Matt figured he was awake.

At one point during the night, Matt glanced at the prisoner and Keegan's eyes were open wide, staring at him. "I can't sleep," said Keegan. "Must be the coffee."

The marshal decided then to stay awake until he was sure Keegan had fallen asleep, then risk dozing a short spell. Matt thought sure he'd waken if Keegan stirred, and the marshal wanted Chester to sleep the night through. With his own lids drooping and exhaustion muddying his head and dragging at his limbs, Matt looked at the prisoner's face every few moments. From what Matt could discern in the faint moonlight, Keegan appeared to remain awake, pretending to sleep.

Matt abruptly nodded off. Hearing his deep even breathing, Keegan cracked his eyes open, looked at the marshal a moment, then cautiously sat up, his eyes fixed on Matt. Keegan wouldn't chance escaping on horseback, nor would he try taking Matt's gun, not that he wanted to.

Chester had put a full canteen by Keegan's bedroll, and he picked it up and stole away into the darkness as Matt and Chester slept.

Awakening five hours later, Matt found himself lying on his back looking up at the sky, the early morning light shining in his eyes. Keegan and his canteen were gone. Matt stood up and walked a few yards from camp, his eyes searching the prairie in all directions. He saw no sign of Keegan.

Chester still slept soundly, and Matt leaned over and touched his shoulder. "Chester, wake up." Chester woke, blinked at Matt and rubbed his eyes. "Keegan got away," said Matt.

"Oh my goodness," Chester mumbled, and yawned.

"He can't have gone far on foot," said Matt, as he and Chester mounted up. "And he won't head for Hays or Dodge."

"He rode thataway when he tried to escape yesterday," said Chester, pointing.

"I'm guessing he figures we think he went the same way last night, so he went the opposite way," said Matt. "He's moving slow after staying up all night."

Keegan ran and walked through the night. He had a poor sense of direction and did not know where he was going. He planned to keep moving until he came to a town, where he'd seek a barkeeping job. At sunup he collapsed and fell asleep, and two hours later Matt and Chester saw him in the distance, facedown in the grass.

He lay motionless as they rode up, Chester leading Keegan's horse by the reins. Matt took hold of his shoulder and turned him over. Keegan opened his eyes and sat up, reached for his canteen and gulped water. Chester pulled the rope from his saddlebag, and Keegan jumped up and tried to run. Matt caught him and he struggled. "Not that again," he said. "My wrists hurt from yesterday."

"We kin tie cloths round his wrists under the rope," said Chester.

"Alright," said Matt.

"I can't stand this," said Keegan, as Matt and Chester tied him as they had the day before.

"We have to on account of you runnin' off," said Chester. "You brung it on yourself."

"You're sleepin' tied to a tree tonight," said Matt. "I'll wake up and hear you if you work the ropes loose."

"I can't," said Keegan. "I can't sleep tied to a tree."

Matt let the prisoner eat supper and drink his coffee untied that night, then told him to sit on his bedroll with his back against a hackberry tree. "No," said Keegan, shaking his head. "I can't."

"We won't tie you too tight," said Matt. "We'll put your hands in front."

"You kin have a blanket fer cover," said Chester.

"No," Keegan repeated. "No, I can't, Matt. I'm too tired. I gotta lay down."

"Alright," said Matt. "You can sleep lying down. Chester will tie a short length from your wrists to my left wrist. My gun hand will be free, so don't get any ideas."

"I'm done shooting men," said Keegan. "I told you that when you jailed me, Matt, and I meant it. And I'm too tired to try an escape tonight."

Matt saw that Chester couldn't handle his duties on the trip and sit awake half the night guarding the prisoner. Chester was not able to stay awake that long at night, duties or no. He napped in the saddle in the daytime as it was, and Matt himself felt heavy-limbed from his short sleep the night before. He decided that neither he or Chester would stay awake on guard the remaining two nights of the trip, as Matt would feel the rope shifting on his wrist and wake up if Keegan tried to untie himself.

They slept the night through, though Matt planned only to doze off and on and keep an eye on Keegan. Matt had no cause for worry. Keegan hardly stirred as the marshal fed and watered the horses and Chester started a fire and fixed breakfast. After waking Keegan to eat, Matt and Chester tied the prisoner as on the day before and helped him into the saddle, and they set out again on the way to Hays with Keegan riding between them.

Keegan didn't gripe when he was tied, and seemed so withdrawn that Matt thought sure he'd make no escape attempt that day. He rode with his eyes fixed on the horizon, a slight frown between his dark brows. "At least I made my peace," Keegan said, following a long unbroken silence among the three riders.

He looked expectantly at Matt, who returned the gaze because he knew that's what Keegan wanted, and Keegan was condemned to hang. "Best thing to do," Matt agreed.

Keegan looked at him a moment longer, then looked at Chester. "That sound reasonable to you, Chester? About a man making his peace when he's facing the noose?"

"Yeah," said Chester, not meeting Keegan's eyes as Matt had. Chester hummed _Red River Valley_, then said, "I surely do hanker after passin' the time with Miss Kitty. Ain't likely ta chat with a woman 'til I git back to Dodge. 'Ceptin' a saloon gal maybe, an' that ain't the same. Reckon you think a lot 'bout Miss Kitty when you're on the trail too, Mr. Dillon."

"Mm-hmm," said Matt.

"I wish I could sing," said Keegan. "Never can carry a tune. Like the notes are in a jumble just out of reach, and I can't latch onto 'em or sort them out no matter how I try." The men grew silent again.

As Matt predicted, Keegan did not try to escape again the remainder of the trip. They slept another night on the trail and rode into Hays two hours or so before noon.

They stopped at the livery, where Matt and Chester dismounted and untied Keegan. Chester led the horses into the stable while Matt waited outside with the prisoner, and they headed for the sheriff's office. "Go in front of us, Walt," Matt ordered as Keegan slackened his pace. Keegan moved out in front.

As they neared the jailhouse door, the prisoner stepped to the side. Matt opened the door and gestured at Keegan to enter. Keegan took a step forward, then whirled and shoved Chester into Matt. Chester lost his footing, and as Matt stumbled, pulling his partner upright, Keegan leaped into the street and raced back toward the livery.

Matt chased him. The marshal was not a fast runner, and Keegan was. Trim, lithe and just under six feet, he had long legs. _"Hold it, Keegan!" _Matt yelled, drawing his gun. Keegan ran faster.


	2. Chapter 2

Matt fired three bullets in the dirt near Keegan's boots. October that year was dry and cold, the ground hard after the heat of summer. The third bullet ricocheted off the street and struck Keegan's right leg between his knee and ankle. He fell, clutching his leg.

Matt holstered his gun and with Chester following approached Keegan. "You shot me," he accused.

"Sorry," said the marshal. "I just meant to slow you down."

Keegan squeezed his leg, grimacing. Blood soaked his pants leg and coated his hands. "The bullet's in there," he said. "It's scalding my leg meat."

Matt and Chester helped him stand and started back to the sheriff's office, supporting Keegan between them. He touched his boot to the ground, yelped, and lifted the injured leg. He hopped once on his left leg. Matt and Chester waited for him to hop again, and when he stayed still, Matt wrapped an arm around Keegan's waist, Chester placed his arm below Matt's and they picked the prisoner up, carried him to the jail and put him on the cell bunk.

"Chester, go find the doc, will you?" said Matt.

"Yessir." Chester went out, closing the door behind him.

"I won't hang at sunup tomorrow?" said Keegan. "I can't walk to the gallows or climb the stairs."

"That's right," said Matt. "You won't hang at sunup. Not until your wound's healed, and maybe not then if the governor commutes your sentence to prison."

Keegan sat up, wincing, and rested against the wall, his legs on the bed. Blood darkened the blanket under his leg, spreading. "But thirty days passed on the appeal," he said. "That means it's denied, right?"

"Not necessarily," said Matt. "The governor's office sends a letter either way and sometimes it comes late. If they think I might not get it in time and the appeal is granted, they send a wire ahead of the letter, to Dodge and to Hays. I'll have Chester check at the telegraph office when he gets back with the doctor. I'll find a strip of cloth to tie around your leg. Slow the bleeding."

The jailhouse was neat and clean, and the sheriff had opened the windows wide before he turned in his badge and left town, so the place smelled fresh. Matt found a folded sheet and tore off a length of coarsely woven cotton.

When he returned to the cell, Keegan had pulled off his boots and pants and rolled up the leg of his union suit. The bullet hole halfway up the side of his calf was crimson and seeping blood, which covered his leg below the knee. Matt wound the cloth strip around Keegan's thigh, pulled the ends tight and tied them.

Chester walked in with a blond fellow about Matt's age, carrying a black bag. "The doc done come, Mr. Dillon. This here's Dr. Xavier Spencer. He says call 'im Spence."

"Hello, Marshal," said the doctor.

"Spence," Matt said.

"Chester tells me he's a doctor's assistant as well as a marshal's assistant. I could use his help if you don't mind," said Spence.

"A doctor's assistant," said Matt. "I didn't know it was that official, but I don't mind if Chester doesn't."

"Well, you knowed 'bout ma other job, Mr. Dillon," said Chester, as Spence examined the prisoner. "Our Doc ta home payin' me with jest vittles to Delmonico's and beer at the Long Branch irregardless."

"I'll need hot water and clean cloths," said Spence. "And soap . . . the bathing kind, not the strong soap for washing clothes. And a spoon to dose Mr. . . uh . . . . "

"Walt Keegan," said Matt.

"To dose Mr. Keegan with laudanum," the doctor said.

"Laudanum's for women. Give me whiskey," Keegan ordered.

Chester found a whiskey bottle in the desk drawer, opened it and handed it to Keegan. He swigged, heaved a chest full of air, gulped some more, coughed and raised the bottle to his mouth again. Chester took the bottle from him. "Yer trouble 'nough without gettin' drunk," he said.

Spence took hold of Keegan's shoulders and pushed him down on the bunk. "You're a little rough, Spence," said the prisoner. "I guess you heard what I am."

"I heard a gunman would be executed tomorrow morning," said Spence. "I figure that's you. Don't worry. I won't hurt you."

"I'm obliged," said Keegan.

"There'll be no hanging tomorrow," said Matt. "He's your patient 'til he mends, Spence."

"I'll tend anyone so long as they're alive. I've done so many times. The bullet's deep," said Spence, washing blood from the wound. "A speck deeper and it would have broken your leg bone."

"That's why I wanted more whiskey. I can feel how far in it is," said Keegan.

Spence paused, holding the forceps. "Would you like me to put you to sleep first?" he asked.

"No chloroform," Keegan said. "Don't bust my head neither, Spence." He laughed weakly.

"Seen this sponge in the cabinet there. Looks like a clean 'un. I wrung it in water," said Chester. He held the sponge over Keegan's lips, and Keegan opened his mouth and bit down.

Spence probed the wound while Keegan grunted, gripping handfuls of the blanket he lay on. Blood spurted from his leg, and Chester dabbed it with wet cloths. Spence extracted the bullet dripping blood, then cleaned the wound with soap and hot water. Chester held the wound closed as the doctor stitched and Keegan groaned. "Hard part's over," said Spence, snipping catgut.

The prisoner streamed sweat, and two threads of mucus slid from his nostrils. His eyes shimmered and overflowed. Chester washed Keegan's face while Spence sprinkled healing powder and bandaged his leg. "Mix that in water if you will," the doctor said to Chester, handing him a morphine packet. "Just the one dose and no more. He needs to sleep now."

Spence helped Keegan sit up and gave him two spoons of tonic, and he drank the morphine. Spence helped him lie back down, and put the doctoring implements away. "I'll leave the tonic here, and laudanum for pain. I don't recommend more whiskey. It dehydrates, and particularly with gunshot you want to make sure the patient doesn't dry out. I'll be back to see him about this time tomorrow."

The departing sheriff had left the till full of bills and coins, and Matt paid the doctor three dollars. Spence paid Chester fifty cents, thanked him for his help and left.

"I checked the post 'fore I went fer the doc, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "Figgered maybe the letter from the governor come to Dodge after we left town and the postman sent it on here. He musta put it on the stage same day we rode out." Chester took a letter from his back pocket and gave it to Matt.

Matt opened the letter and read it, and glanced in the jail cell. Keegan was asleep. "The appeal was denied," said Matt.

"That 'bout what you expected?" said Chester.

"Yes. I guess I did, Chester."

"That means you haveta look at 'im hang, an' see 'im cut down and put in the undertaker's wagon. Ta bear witness on account of the sheriff done run out. You cain't stand a ways off an' turn yer head like usual," Chester sympathized.

Unaccountably heartened, Matt looked into Chester's soulful, concerned eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. "Chester, Keegan won't be able to walk for three days or so, and then he'll need a crutch about another five days, and two, three days after that before he can climb the gallows stairs. That's at least ten days, maybe as long as a fortnight."

"Uh-huh." Chester nodded soberly.

"If a condemned man gets sick or injured, that qualifies as a new development in the case, permitting another appeal to the governor," said Matt.

Chester looked baffled.

"On account of Keegan's wounded," Matt explained. "It's something that happened to him since the appeal was denied, so the governor reviews his case again."

"The governor ain't like ta change 'is mind fer a shot leg, Mr. Dillon," Chester argued. "Only if Keegan was dyin' of consumption or snapped his backbone or somethin'."

"I didn't spend much time on the first petition," said Matt. "This time I'll make a more impassioned plea. I'll emphasize how the law had strong suspicions that the men Keegan killed were guilty of murder, and emphasize the holdups and beatings and attacks on women they did prison time for. And how I know Keegan better since my first appeal, and I'm convinced he'll help the other prisoners reform if he's granted the chance to live. That'll give us thirty more days while the governor rethinks Keegan's sentence."

"You figger that in truth, Mr. Dillon? That Keegan'll help the other prisoners reform?"

"I don't know. I believe _he's _reformed, from killing anyway, and under the circumstances I don't think it's wrong to let him live," said Matt.

"Maybe this town'll hire a new sheriff 'fore the thirty days pass. So's you don't haveta watch Keegan hang up close. You kin stand off to the corner," said Chester.

"It's not just that, Chester. When the Hays sheriff officiates, it's his jurisdiction, so the condemned man doesn't swing until he gives the order. If he refuses, the court sends another lawman to do it, and it's out of the sheriff's hands. When a man is sentenced to death in Dodge, I have to attend the execution as witness, but the hanging takes place in Hays, so the sheriff is lead man. Well, this time there's no sheriff to take charge. If Keegan hangs, my own words puts the noose around his neck," said Matt.

"But you'll jest be followin' the law. Doin' as yer tole," said Chester. "You cain't refuse, Mr. Dillon," he said when Matt didn't answer. "Headquarters won't like it."

Matt patted Chester's shoulder again. "I'm gonna find the undertaker and tell 'im not to bring his wagon tomorrow," said the marshal. "Then I'm coming back here to write a second appeal." He handed Chester some coins from his pocket. "You can buy us some lunch. Take the money for Keegan's food from the till."

"What about the hangman," said Chester. "He'll show to the enclosure come sunup."

"He'll figure it out," said Matt.

_M*********************************************************************_

Matt kept Chester in Hays as jailer. When a fortnight passed and Keegan walked with only a slight limp under Chester's guard to the bathhouse for his weekly bath, Matt figured he might try to escape again. The marshal carefully instructed Chester on how to handle the prisoner when Matt was out of the office, as he'd taken on the sheriff's regular duties while in Hays.

Now and then those duties took him out of town. On one such trip he traveled to neighboring farms not far from Hays to resolve a dispute over a well, and was out past sundown.

Chester lounged on his bunk, reading a magazine called _Thrilling Tales_.

"Chester. I have to go out back," said Keegan.

Chester rose, took a loaded six-gun from the desk drawer and the jail key from its peg. "Back up against the wall," he said. Keegan obeyed. Chester fixed his eyes on Keegan and held the gun ready while he unlocked the door left-handed and opened it.

Keegan walked out of the cell and headed for the front door. "The side door, Keegan," said Chester. "You know how it's done."

Keegan turned round and smiled wide. "Give me that gun, Chester."

"You think yer smart, don'tcha," said Chester. "Git back in the cell." He stepped to the side and gestured with the gun. Keegan moved toward him, grinning. "Stop right there or I'll shoot you through the heart," said Chester. Keegan kept coming and Chester raised the gun.

"Alright." Keegan shrugged, grinning. "What the deuce. It was worth a try." He turned to the jail cell, then grabbed the gun barrel, snatching the gun from Chester and jumping back.

"Now if you get a shotgun and fire into the air by my head, or into the dirt near my boots while I run away, I'll shoot back," said Keegan. "Not to kill; I'm done with that. I'll shoot around you like you and the marshal did me, only I'll take care not to hit you. Matt was careless. He shot me by accident, and I don't want to get shot anymore. Might teach you not to play that game if you're on the other end of it, Chester." Keegan opened the front door.

Matt stood there blocking the doorway. He saw the gun in Keegan's hand and hit him, and Keegan dropped the gun, falling senseless to the floor. Chester picked up the gun and returned it to the desk drawer.

"Let's get 'im in the cell," said Matt. He lifted the prisoner under his arms while Chester lifted his legs, and they carried him to the cell and put him on the bunk.

"What happened?" said Matt.

"He said he had to go out back, and when I let 'im out, he got the gun away from me."

"I'll tend him from now on, Chester," Matt said.

"Yessir. What 'bout when he has ta go in truth an' you're out?"

"We'll have to put a pot in the cell."

_M_***********************************************************************

When thirty days passed and Matt received no reply from the governor's office to his second appeal, he went to see the undertaker and told him to bring his wagon to the execution enclosure at sunup in two days from that morning. Then the marshal visited a Hays councilman and asked him to tell the executioner when the hanging would take place.

Matt did not seek out the parson, as Keegan had committed murder and was not entitled to Scripture reading and prayer over his grave, though he owned a worn Bible and often whispered prayers in his cell. He would be buried on Boot Hill, and Matt would witness his burial.

The day before Keegan was to hang, he asked for clean clothes and to go to the bathhouse. Matt granted both requests, using his own money to buy new clothes for the prisoner.

Never chatty, Keegan now said almost nothing, except to ask Matt questions about the hanging, or when he needed something. He spent most of the next two days reading his Bible and praying, napped frequently during the day and slept soundly at night.

The morning of the execution dawned cold, the dark sky clear with a few lingering, faintly winking stars. Matt planned to let Chester sleep as late as he wanted to, but while the marshal shaved, his friend woke, dressed and ran his fingers through his hair and fixed coffee.

Matt woke Keegan, who'd slept the night in his new clothes, and asked him if he wanted coffee or anything to eat. "No," said Keegan.

Matt declined Chester's offer of coffee, so Chester poured a cup for himself. Neither Matt or Chester thought of eating early breakfast.

The marshal looked back at Chester as he walked Keegan out the side door to the enclosure, and Chester, sitting on his bunk with his coffee cup, met Matt's eyes.

The undertaker's wagon was outside the enclosure, and the undertaker and his man stood within. The hangman stood on the gallows platform. Matt walked Keegan to the gallows and stopped at the foot of the steps. Keegan ascended the steps without glancing again at Matt.

Matt looked up at the hangman, who looked down from his post into the marshal's eyes. Pale light washed the enclosure as the sun rose, and Matt saw the man's eyes clearly, colorless and expressionless in a grayish white face.

The man tied Keegan's wrists together in front of him and asked if he wanted a hood. Keegan shook his head, his sharp features tense, his jaw set and his eyes distant.

As Matt looked up at Keegan, the prisoner's mouth turned up in the shade of a tight grin. Matt saw Keegan's chest rise and fall in a shaky sigh. Then Keegan lowered his head and fixed his piercing coppery eyes on Matt's blue ones.

Keegan stared at Matt as the hangman put the noose around Keegan's neck, tightened it, stepped off the trapdoor and reached for the lever that would drop Keegan to his death.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Hold it," _said Matt. He felt like the words were forced from him, like he didn't mean to speak them and had no power to stop his mouth from uttering them.

The hangman startled, his hand resting on the lever, gaping at Matt. The undertaker and his man stood side by side, patiently waiting and watching the marshal, seemingly unmoved. Keegan, his face sober, kept his bright eyes fastened on Matt.

"I'm calling off the execution," said Matt.

"You have no authority to do that," said the hangman, his hand still on the lever. "This execution must take place by decree of the state of Kansas."

"It won't take place today," said Matt. "Let go of the lever." The executioner's fingers closed tighter around the lever as he considered. Matt pulled his gun, aimed at the length of rope leading to the noose around Keegan's neck and thumbed the hammer.

The hangman released the lever. "You blasted idiot lawman," he said.

Matt pushed the hammer into place and holstered his gun. "Take the noose off and untie his hands," said Matt. "In that order."

"Confound you. Daft marshal," said the hangman, obeying Matt's commands.

"Come on down here, Walt," said Matt.

Keegan set his boot on the top step and his knees buckled. He fell on the stairs. "You'll get no help from me, you murdering scum," said the hangman.

Matt thought of helping Keegan up and decided against it, figuring it might shame him. Keegan climbed carefully to his feet, shivering a little despite the jacket he wore, and slowly descended the steps. He was hatless, his face pale under his brown skin, a light wind flapping his waving dark hair.

The undertaker and his man glanced at each other, then moved to their wagon and drove away. The executioner followed Keegan down the steps. "So when does he get hanged then," the hangman demanded.

"Shut up," said Keegan. The man swung at him, and Keegan ducked the blow and smacked his face.

"_Killer!" _said the hangman, holding his cheek. "Your skin is the color of muck," he said through his teeth. Keegan punched the man, knocking him down.

"That's enough, Keegan," said Matt. He pulled the hangman upright by his arm. "Get out of here," he said.

"You're both filth," said the hangman. He spat in the dirt and left the enclosure.

"What happens now, Matt?" said Keegan.

"We're taking a ride to the Penitentiary," said Matt, "and I'm leaving you there."

"Chester coming with us?" Keegan asked.

"I'm sending Chester to Dodge on the stage. You'll ride his horse to prison, and I'll bring the horse back to Dodge."

"I have a better chance of escaping with just you guarding me," said Keegan.

"Maybe," said Matt.

Sitting on his bunk in the sheriff's office, Chester jumped when Matt came in the side door with Keegan. "Gracious sakes," Chester said faintly.

"Alright, Chester," said Matt. He locked Keegan in the jail cell.

"What do we do, now, Mr. Dillon?" said Chester.

"I'm taking Keegan to Lansing. You can ride the stage to Dodge," said Matt.

"Oh," said Chester. "Ah'll be happy seein' Miss Kitty. I miss her, by golly."

"So do I. What about Doc?"

"What about Doc," said Chester.

"You miss him?" said Matt.

"Wahl . . . a l'il, maybe."

Chester went to the restaurant and carried back a plate of flapjacks with butter and molasses and crispy fatback for Keegan's breakfast. Keegan ate everything with two cups of coffee, then lay down and fell asleep.

Chester and Matt ate breakfast at the restaurant. "You don't need that deputy you done hired to run things in Dodge no more, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I kin tell 'im to go 'is way and pin on the badge maself 'til you git back to town."

"No, Chester," said Matt. "Kent's in charge until I return to Dodge, and I want you to take his orders. We've had this conversation before."

"Well, we cain't have it 'nough times, way I figger it," Chester sulked.

"You could use some time off," said Matt. "Stay in my room at Ma Smalley's if you want 'til I come back. You can visit Kitty, play pool, do whatever you want."

"Then I don't haveta take no orders from Kent? I mean, he's a real nice feller 'n all . . . ."

"You don't have to go the marshal's office or do any work at all," said Matt. "You'll be takin' a break, Chester."

"I'd like that. I will," said Chester.

"Telegraph office is open now," said Matt. "I'll see if Kent sent a wire from Dodge. He lets me know what's goin' on there."

"Ah'm powerful sleepy." Chester yawned, stretching. "It's 'bout two hours 'fore the noon stage leaves. Got time ta rest ma bones a spell."

There was a telegram for Matt, but not from Kent. Matt read the wire, folded it and put it in his jacket pocket, feeling the paper square against his palm as he walked to the jailhouse.

Chester was sleeping on his bunk, and Matt woke him. "Mr. Dillon, I jest went to sleep," Chester grumped.

"Get up, Chester," said Matt. "I need you as witness."

"Witness what."

Matt took the jail key and unlocked Keegan's cell, which woke the prisoner. "Matt?" said Keegan, sitting up. "We leaving for Lansing already? I'm still awful tired."

"We'll leave tomorrow," said Matt. "Stand up; I have something to read to you."

"What?" said Keegan, standing. His eyes darted to Chester, who moved to stand beside Matt. "Chester?" said Keegan.

"Jest rest easy," said Chester.

"Alright, Walt," said Matt. "Let me read this to you. _'By order of The Honorable—' "_

"_Good heavens," _Chester interrupted. _"Mr. Dillon. _You won't get in trouble with headquarters after all."

"Chester," said Matt. _" '—Governor of the State of Kansas, John St. John, sentence of death by hanging for Walter Paul Keegan is hereby commuted to twenty years in prison, with not less than ten years served prior to release. Official letter to follow. Apologies to Marshal Dillon if this message arrives too late.' " _

Keegan's legs failed him for the second time that day, and he sat down hard on the bunk. "The message almost did arrive too late," he said. "I was that close to swinging. How did you know that wire was coming in, Matt."

"I didn't," said the marshal.

"I won't try to run anymore," said Keegan. "I just wanted to escape death. Prison is my punishment for taking the law into my hands, like the judge said I did. If I behave myself, and I will, I'll be a free man in ten years when I'm fifty. I'm from hardy stock. I'll survive Lansing."

_M************************************************************************_

Chester said he needed to rest the day and night before the trip home to Dodge, so he left on the early stage the next morning, the same time Matt rode out with Keegan, headed for the Penitentiary. "You reckon Hays will ever hire a new sheriff, Mr. Dillon?" Chester asked, as he, Matt and Keegan left the sheriff's office and Matt closed the door, hoping he wouldn't have to return to the town for a long spell.

"I think the council gave up on finding someone who wants the job, Chester," said Matt. "I'll write our man Kent a reference if he's interested. He may be the most cheerful, liveliest fellow I ever met; and keeps his wits sharp around the bad ones too. He's a fierce fighter and fast draw, for all he's so good-natured. Hays won't dampen _his _spirits."

"Is he good-natured enough to hang killers?" said Keegan. "Or is he like you that way. You don't need to tie my hands, Matt. I said I won't run away."

"Just a precaution," said Matt. Keegan mounted Chester's horse, and Chester tied the rope binding the prisoner's wrists to the saddle pommel, and ran a short line to Matt's pommel. Chester patted his horse's neck and stroked its mane.

"Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"Say hello to Kitty for me, Chester," said Matt.

"I will," said Chester. "Doc, too?"

"Sure."

Humming _Skip to my Lou_, Chester walked to the stage that would take him to Dodge.

The marshal mounted his horse, and Matt and Keegan rode out of Hays, bound for the Penitentiary. "I asked if that deputy you hired in Dodge has the gizzard to hang a man," said Keegan. "Kent. Since I know you got no belly for it. You didn't answer my question, Matt."

"Shut up about that," said Matt.

"Alright. Alright, Matt. I'm not hounding you on it, that's sure. I know you couldn't let that dreg pull the lever, and that saved my life and I'm beholden to you. You're a good man if you are a lawman," said Keegan.

"Thanks," said Matt.

"Matt?"

"What."

"Just one more question . . . about . . . ."

"What is it," said Matt.

"You think you did right by saving me?" Keegan asked.

Matt thought a moment. "I hope so," he said.

END


End file.
